


In all the places

by nylie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Chance Meetings, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life, maybe a tiny bit of background magical realism if you squint (a lot)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nylie/pseuds/nylie
Summary: Daichi and Kita meet again in Tokyo.Or, a series of casual encounters inside the doors of akonbinithat might or might not be more than they ought to.





	In all the places

**Author's Note:**

> I started shipping this IDK when, but a few weeks ago I set myself to do /something/ about it, and after a lot of sweat and tears (?), this is the result.  
> I hope you enjoy it, and maybe join me in this particular rarepair hell :))
> 
> Just in case anybody is wondering, I don't think there are spoilers for the manga, besides... well, Kita. 
> 
>  
> 
> As usual, thanks to Meg for being there to save you from my terrible English mistakes & Pili for her unwavering support even when all I did was complain .  
> ❤

  
_“Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden – in all the places.”_

_–_ **Frances** **Hodgson Burnett**

 

   
  


They introduce themselves in the most unfavorable circumstances: with Daichi’s win and Kita’s loss hanging in numbers over their heads, a net between them and a hand in offering.

“Congratulations. You deserve it.”

Kita Shinsuke’s voice up close is different; like velvet, but hardened from being lain wet under the sun. There’s a tilt to his smile, no tears yet.

Daichi thinks they will come. This is a thing they might share ― like most captains do ― a stoicism in their stance, firm and proud and sure against all results; responsibility underlined on their chests. But as the other captain blinks, waits, hand still around Daichi’s fingers, Daichi can’t really tell if they will.

 “ _Osu_. You too,” he says, sincere, and tightens his hold on their hands for the things he can understand.

 

**.**

 

Daichi files his encounter with Inarizaki’s captain away with all the other memories he makes at Nationals, sticking out in a peculiar way ― its tips torn and darkened ― under the weight Nekoma presses on it, and doesn’t think of Kita again as he moves away from home to attend university at Tokyo.

Tokyo is, after all, a lot to take in. The city is heavy with noise, restless and thriving even as the sun sets every day. Daichi settles himself in a shared apartment with two other students, three stations away from his university, and works on making his way through it.

 

**.**

 

He discovers the _konbini_ on his first day. It blends in with the other shops that line the street of his apartment and Daichi barely catches sight of it ― all lit, its colours familiar ― as he stumbles around with his bags. It sets something alight in him, a wave of certainty; rocks solid enough to stand on.

“It’s just a shop,” one of his new roommates tells him that same night, as Daichi shares his excitement over dinner and swiftly embarrasses himself.

 _It looks just like the one back at home_ , he thinks helplessly and laughs along them.

 

**.**

 

Here is where they’ll meet each other again: two strangers in a strange land, searching for familiar ground.

 

**.**

 

On his third day, Daichi steps inside the _konbini_ and leaves Tokyo behind its closed doors.

The store feels like an exact replica of the one back home. It leaves Daichi gaping at the entrance, feeling the shift of the earth under his feet until it balances the weight inside Daichi’s chest.  

Outside those doors, Miyagi thrives.

 

**.**

 

This is how Kita finds him, later that same day: standing by the cleaning supplies, with two different types of floor polish in his hands.

Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, Daichi blurts out, “I know you.”

“You do.”

Daichi doesn’t know his voice, not this way, off the court. It sounds a bit distorted; the result of two realities colliding.

Kita Shinsuke ― fingers firmly clasped together, a certain imbalance in the stance of his feet and the glint of a smile in his eyes ― stares at him for a full second before fixing his eyes on the bottles he’s holding.

“Pick the orange one,” Inarizaki’s former captain says. “You should get some gloves too if you don’t have any.”

“Right.” Feeling all awkward under Kita’s gaze, Daichi places the orange bottle in his basket and returns the other to its shelf. “Thank you.”

Kita’s only answer is to nod, courteous. Daichi watches him select his own supplies from the shelves, diligent and determined.

At the front of the shop, the doors open and Tokyo steps inside.

 

**.**

 

The thing about Tokyo is it has too many wandering souls. Too many faces, none familiar. As the second week comes around, Daichi gets used to the nameless mass that walks him to the station in the morning and the one that returns him to his apartment at night.

It is refreshing to meet somebody he knows ― however brief or unfortunate their previous encounters were, however little he actually knows about the other guy.

This time, Daichi sees him first. Rather, he sees Kita’s Inarizaki jacket, hanging from his basket in spite of the warm air that dresses the city in pink, and in the moment it takes for Daichi to reach him, he wonders if Kita feels as homesick as he does. If he sees Hyougo when he looks outside the _konbini’s_ doors.

“It’s good to see you, Kita-san.”

Daichi stands behind him in line for the cashier, carrying no more than a package of rice and a bottle of milk. He shifts the weight of his body into one foot, leans a bit forward into the other former captain’s space.

Kita doesn’t startle ― Daichi will wonder, later on in their friendship, if he ever does. He looks up from whatever thought was on his mind, draws a tiny smile on his lips and nods, as if he was waiting for Daichi to settle himself right by his shoulder, like some kind of puzzle impossible for the common human to understand.

“Good afternoon, Sawamura-san.” Kita curls his fingers around his basket handle with care. “Is Tokyo treating you well?”

Daichi looks outside. At the doors, a family of three enters the store. The little girl ― probably five or six, but definitely not older than his siblings ― stays at the entrance. Her tiny feet dance in and out of the doorway and the doors slide open and closed with her movement.

Daichi shrugs. Outside, Tokyo is nothing but a colourful blur.

“It’s not treating me wrong,” he says and fights an awkward laugh down his chest. Kita’s spiked interest is only noticeable by the tilt of his lips and the way his eyes don’t wonder back. He doesn’t ask. Daichi doesn’t feel comfortable enough to clarify. “You?”

Kita curls his fingers tight against the handle of his basket and one by one settles his shopping on the cashier’s desk.

“It takes some time to get used to,” he says. The movement of his fingers becomes steadier after every new product he grabs but his smile is thinner ― almost unnoticeable under the artificial light. “It’s not something you can rush.” 

Daichi nods, and changes the weight of his body on his feet, his own basket balancing in his hands.

“I guess you can’t.”

 

**.**

 

Unspoken, the _konbini_ becomes a Spot.

Daichi knows a thing or two about those, fixed points he knots together in his life line: the vending machine he and Ikejiri used to meet by; Ukai’s store where the team liked to hang out after practice; the shrine he visited with Suga, Asahi, and Shimizu every New Year.

This is a thing Daichi knows about them: Spots are only found when you are looking for something.

 

**.**

 

Here they’ll meet again, and again, and again.

 

**.**

 

There’s a bench outside the store. It’s not unlike the one back home: wooden seat, iron legs, space for two. It creaks with the same sound when Daichi sits on it, like a creature fixing itself around his weight. Although its paint is newer, the scuff marks are harsher; they speak of its use in a way the one in Miyagi never could.

Today, Daichi lays his sports bag on it first. He stretches upward and lets his muscles shape themselves in the air. Inside the _konbini_ doors, an old volleyball game he recognizes plays on the TV’s screen and it holds his attention for a while ― shoulders stretching upwards, the tips of his fingers aiming forward. He breathes out, lets his arm fall down and takes a seat by his bag.

Behind him, Miyagi floods the store with sound.

He doesn’t hear Kita arrive. It doesn’t surprise him anymore ― not as much ― the way Kita slides in by his side, quietly, softly, the way the blossoms fell down the streets a few weeks ago. There’s something both eerie and grounding about him, a contradiction Daichi finds himself thinking too much about.

Kita always sits straight, with his feet firmly drawn together, his hands hovering over his knees and the ghost of a smile on his lips ― nothing more than a faint glint for the imagination. As a chain reaction, Daichi lets himself relax: he looks up and, with his hands in his pockets, pushes his feet as far away as he can from the bench. From inside the store he can hear the faintest traces from the game; he doesn’t turn towards the television, the game has already settled inside his head.

Kita, however, does spare a look past the _konbini’s_ doors, and something akin to confusion sits on his forehead. It doesn’t last, his eyes travel to Daichi’s sports bag, where his sneakers peek out from its open zipper ― all dirty and worn. Kita hums, the sound a hitch above silence, and lets his eyes wonder up.

“How was your game, Sawamura?” he asks, with his eyes fixed on Daichi. In the afternoon sky, they look like lanterns, flicking on and off, a flare so bright it might burn.

“ _Ah_ ,” embarrassment floods Daichi, and he answers with a hand scratching his neck and his face turned away, “I didn’t play.”

It had been a bit disappointing. As real as Daichi still kept his expectations to make the team on his first year, practice games were a whole different thing. He had hoped―

“That’s not what I asked.” Kita doesn’t raise his voice, but it carries the same tone Daichi would affect to scold his siblings, what Suga still calls his Captain Voice. Daichi smiles sheepishly, chastised. Kita barely blinks and says, with no discernible feeling: “I didn’t play then.” 

It takes Daichi a frown on his face and the length of a breath to understand. He follows Kita’s gaze past the _konbini_ ’s doors and up to the TV’s screen. The image flickers, and Daichi blinks a few times until he recognizes Karasuno’s uniform once again. As the doors close and open, he wonders what Kita might be seeing in its place.

 “You’ll play,” Kita says when Daichi turns back to him, with the knowledge that two plus two equals four and the conviction that practice plus practice equals opportunities. He is smiling now, a soft insignificant thing, a bit of a smirk that ignites something in him ― Daichi feels caught and known and he raises the stakes with a smirk of his own.

 

**.**

 

“Why don’t you play anymore?”

Daichi hears the words before he realizes he said them himself. They are walking side by side down one of the store aisles, but Daichi isn’t really thinking about his shopping list. There’s a breeze that glides down the corridor. Back at home, his siblings would run along it, tangling themselves around his legs. Here, Kita’s shoulder braces against his. It’s in this movement that Daichi catches Kita’s hesitation and he suddenly remembers himself.

He cowers, offers Kita a smile and, with a hand through his hair, he adds: “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

His voice falls, and silence beats through it. The breeze makes room for itself in the mess of his hair, and there it finds Kita’s voice, already nesting in his mind.

“I didn’t have the need for it,” he says. Kita’s feet move him forward, his basket, as empty as Daichi’s, firmly held by the tips of his fingers. He lets the humming of his thoughts travel with his movement and Daichi picks something from the shelves he already knows he won’t buy.

“It’s a bit like building a puzzle…” Kita’s voice says, some steps later, and he looks pensive as he turns back towards Daichi and adds: “You can’t have the same piece twice.”

 

**.**

 

Tokyo is, still, a lot to take in.

But, by the time summer arrives, Daichi knows the way to his university by heart; he exchanges niceties with one or two people he shares his commute with; he’s visited almost every store on his block and some more―

―he meets Kita at least once a week at the _konbini_.

 

**.**

 

Routine is a comfort blanket Daichi carries with him; it has the rhythm of the bounce of the ball on Karasuno’s gym’s floor and the feel of Kita’s velvet voice in the palms of his hands.

 

**.**

 

Daichi makes a choice the day before he leaves for Miyagi for summer break. It’s not an impulsive choice, it’s an option laid bare on a swing, going higher and higher every time. It’s a choice that sleeps with him that night and follows him like a hot breeze all the way into the store.

Today, they find each other on opposite sides of the doors. They open and close in front of them with hunger, like the jaws of memories that plague the store’s aisles. Outside, Tokyo stands tall and warm and slightly more familiar than when they first arrived.

This is how they reintroduce themselves: with the doors closing on them and Kita’s laugh rising through its cracks.

“We should meet somewhere else,” Daichi says and the doors open with the command of his voice.

 

**.**

This is the thing Daichi is looking for: the feeling of home.

This is the thing Daichi finds: a fox waiting outside the _konbini’s_ doors and all of Tokyo to explore.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! This was a bit experimental for me, so I hope you enjoyed it!!  
> As usual, comments&kudos make the heart warm!


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